Remember
by patheticpisces
Summary: Catherine O'Shea has always been determined, moving to Alexandria in the summer of 1971 doesn't change that. How will her peers react to a girl on the football team in the midst of a newly integrated school system? What will the town have to say about her disregard for race and kicking perfect field goals? And does it really matter when the Titans have her back? Sunshine/OC
1. Prologue

Prologue:

It was the summer of 1971. Most Americans were against the war in Vietnam, Led Zeppelin was releasing a fourth album and Jim Morrison had been found dead in Paris. Above all things happening in the country, before mini-skirts and The Partridge Family, The Brady Bunch and knee socks, the turmoil in Alexandria was of the greatest importance. The school board was forcing an integration for the following Fall, the same year my family chose to move to the small town in Virginia, the same year a young black man was killed by a white store owner. I hailed from New Jersey, a state that seemed worlds away and one where race was not as fixated on. There is prejudice everywhere, but I had never seen any as vocalized as I did upon our move to Alexandria. I had never actually seen a protest outside of the news, but that changed just a few days after arriving in the small town.

We were white. I'd never had any issues because of my skin. I saw the struggles, I could sympathize and try to understand but I would never pretend to know what it felt like to be judged because of my race. I grew up Irish in an Italian neighborhood but that was nothing but innocent ribbing between friends, especially compared to this. People stared at me from time to time, I dressed more relaxed and "hippie" than most, especially in Alexandria. I had long, flowing red hair that I parted down the center with a bit of bangs and layers to keep it from my face, corkscrewing into ringlet curls at the very ends that I always wore down unless I was playing or training. I had my father's gray-green eyes and my mother's rosy cheeks and perfect lips, all set in a warm, friendly oval face. I dressed simply, skirts and dresses were reserved for church on Sundays and most school days but I was very fond of jeans and slacks. I still am.

I played soccer for six years, I danced ballet for eight and I was fortunate enough not to move around too much before now. My father was in the Marines during the Korean War, remaining in the service reporting in at Fort Dix doing whatever it was he did, and both of my older brothers were serving or had served in Vietnam. My mother, though supportive of my athletic and academic endeavors, worried more for me than I thought necessary as I, the youngest of her children, had yet to fly the coop. In this dynamic I was raised to judge a man, not by the color of his skin, but by the caliber of his character. This was something I quickly learned was not practiced by most in Alexandria.

The integration of the schools was announced a week or so after our move and I was excited for the prospect of diverse friendships and for the opportunity to play ball. Upon our move, I realized that there was no soccer team, let alone a women's team but I had quickly resolved to play the sport I so often played with my brothers and cousins at family cook outs. A sport I loved and could provide a valued skill to, football. Yes, football. I immediately checked Virginia state regulations for the rules regarding females in male sports and according to regulation; _"if a women's team does not exist, the intermingling of the sexes is allowed to ensure equal play opportunities to both parties."_ I was left to assume that it came down to the coach for a final decision; whether or not I was up to snuff.

Part of me was nervous to go out for the high school football team, with all of the integration business I knew that the furthest thing from anyone's mind was going to be _a girl_ playing _football_. Then there was the other part of me, the part that knew this would be an amazing opportunity and that I was capable of making the team. I was tiny, very tiny especially in comparison to most football players. I stood at 5'3" and couldn't have weighed more than a buck-oh-five. I knew I would be underestimated because of my size, because of my gender and, by some in Alexandria, my skin, but I was determined– resolved to prove myself and not only show that gender didn't matter, but that race didn't either.


	2. Zero fun, sir

Chapter 1: "Zero fun, sir."

It was late July, Alexandria had a bubbling undercurrent of caution, ill-masked hatred and anger. The city was on the verge of explosion but dad took it in stride. We'd moved in two weeks ago. Mom was excited about getting to decorate the new place and the neighbors were nice, some black and some white. It was a passing thought that dad had chosen this house because it was closer to "The Berg", as the locals referred to it, and thus a more diverse area, which made me smile. Mom had hit it off with everyone very quickly as was her bubbly, welcoming nature.

Cal had driven out with us, to help us settle in and I'd sent Ben a letter immediately with Polaroids of the house so he'd have the new address. I missed him so much and had been ticking down the days left in his tour, tucking our letters into a shoe box. (Copies of the letters I'd send and his responses. I knew he'd want them all some day, sentimental geek.) Ben completely supported my idea to go out for the team, to be the kicker. He believed in me and mom and dad were supportive, only minimally concerned for my safety as they knew I could handle myself. (Cal had gotten very into Tai Chi when he came home from his last tour in Vietnam and I volunteered to learn with him.) And lo and behold, the football team was meeting that week to take on new players.

Mom dropped me off on her way to work at the local salon. She was a perfect fit for the place; warm personality, beautiful and an excellent stylist. The high school was what I expected, standard. I made my way to the gym, standing off to the side as not to draw attention to myself. Myself and the rest of the town knew that they had given the head coaching position to Coach Boone over Coach Yoast and none of the young men in the gym with me were white. It took all of my self control not to roll my eyes at the narrow-mindedness of the community.

The boys laughed and joked with one another, some sitting in the bleachers behind them, having friendly, light-hearted conversation. I smiled as I watched the interactions until a commanding man with a medium skin tone, followed by another with a goatee marched in. The boys on the bleachers shot up and fell in line quickly. I assumed the commanding man was Coach Boone as he came to a stop in front of a young man, I believed was called Petey, with his fist raised. "Put your hand down. You smiling." The coach addressed him so sternly, the younger man immediately lowered his arm. He then proceeded to cut into him a bit, asking him why he was smiling and why he thought football was 'fun'. The rest of the group remained silent, not wanting to bring the coach's wrath upon them.

"All right, listen up. I'm Coach Boone. I'm gonna tell you all about how much "fun" you gonna have this season. We leave for camp; Gettysburg College, August 15th, 7:29 am. If you report at 7:30, you will not be playing football this season, you will be watching. You will wear a jacket, shirt, and tie. If you don't have one, buy one. Can't afford one, then borrow one from your old man. If you don't have an old man, then find a drunk, trade him for his. 'Cause I can guarantee you there isn't a bum on the street that looks as raggedy and ridiculous as what I'm looking at right now." Boone spoke, his eyes sweeping across the boys, spotting me in the process as I wrote down the date and time for camp in my pocket-sized notebook. "This is no democracy. It is a dictatorship. I am the law. If you survive camp, you will be on the team. If you survive. Check 'em in, Coach." He spoke with brief pauses for effect, turning the teenagers over to the facial hair sporting coach.

"Check 'em in." He repeated Coach Boone's last phrase before drawing up his clipboard. "I'm Coach Hinds, your offensive line coach. Yell out your name and position starting from the right." I didn't hear much of the positions being called as Coach Boone approached me. "Excuse me young lady, but may I ask why you're at my team meeting?" He was polite and formal, but had a no-nonsense tone that made what he asked more so a command than a request. "I'm sorry, sir." I began, nervous. "I'd like to try out for the team." He looked at me skeptically, glancing down at the information I'd written in my notebook. "Uh-huh. What position do you play Miss..." Boone trailed off, expecting a name.

"Catherine O'Shea, sir." I stammered, "I'm a kicker." I was minutely aware of the others calling out positions and names. A Petey Jones, the boy whose arm was raised. Jerry Harris, who the boys called 'Rev', and a heavy-set boy with blonde hair and a kind face named Louie Lastik. Coach Hinds turned his head to observe Coach Boone and I, with a look in his eye, I couldn't quite place. "Miss O'Shea, I'm not sure you understand that this is–" I interrupted him before he could finish. "Excuse me, sir. I know I'm asking an awful lot but before you say no, please let me demonstrate my skill. You don't owe me anything, heck, you don't know me from Eve but all I'm asking for is a shot and I don't think you'll be disappointed."

Coach Boone's eyes narrowed as he contemplated it for a moment, sharing a look with Coach Hinds before returning his fierce gaze to me. "Would you be able to demonstrate before you leave?" I nodded my head eagerly. "Yes, sir." I watched him nod, returning his attention to the assembly as a whole as the doors burst open. A stern, but not unfriendly looking man led a group, of what I could only assume were football players, into the gym. Coach Boone nodded over toward the already assembled boys for me to take my place beside Lastik, while he and the man I can only assume was Coach Yoast went to have a chat.

The air was thick with tension as the two groups glared at one another while Hinds continued through check-in. Being the only girl in the room and the only person with a flaming mop of hair, drew quite a bit of attention my way. There were whispers and glares from both sides but the heavy-set boy paid them no mind. "I'm Louie Lastik. My family just moved here from Bayonne." He smiled warmly down at me for a moment. "Catherine O'Shea. Just moved here from Barnegat." I smiled as recognition flashed across his face. "Small world." Louie said with a small chuckle.

I turned to Rev next. "I'm Catherine." I spoke, holding out my hand for him to shake. "Jerry Harris." He said softly, shaking my hand with a small smile. His skin was lighter in tone than Coach Boone and his hair was cut very neatly with a deep side-part. He had a warmth to his countenance, and I relaxed a bit given the circumstances. Beyond Rev, was Petey as he'd so flirtatiously introduced himself. I smiled politely, noticing the small mole on his upper-lip as I shook his hand. "Young lady?" Coach Hinds' voice drew my attention. "Yes, sir." I snapped my head back toward him. "Name and position, please." He smiled at me, drawing what little attention wasn't on me, to me. "Catherine O'Shea. Kicker."

* * *

After Coach Boone and Coach Yoast had their pow-wow, the group was dismissed with one last reminder of camp and when they would need to arrive. Coach Boone approached me and he and the other coaches led the way out to the football field. It didn't escape my notice that some of the boys had stuck around curious about what a girl could do on the field. Rev, Louie and Petey had stayed as well as some of the white players; a broad young man with light brown hair, a blonde and a very stern looking boy. Coach Tyrell, who was introduced as the Special Teams coach, handed me a bag of balls and a tee.

I gave a brief 'thank-you' before turning to the coaches. "Regardless of your decision, I'd like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to prove myself." I said softly, eyes darting between the four men and mainly staying on Boone and Yoast. I walked out to the 50 yard-line, dropping the tee and sack before setting up the kick. I stepped back a few paces before charging forward and sending the ball flying straight through the center of the goalpost. The boys were talking amongst themselves at my successful field goal but the coaches were silent.

I picked up the tee and walked down field 30 yards, resetting my kick at the 80 yard-line. "Now, darlin', don't be foolish. Nobody can kick a successful field goal from that far out." Coach Tyrell's accented drawl droned out, some of the boys chuckling. I paid him no mind and repeated my first kick, sending the ball through the goalpost– dead center. I picked up the tee and bag of balls and returned to the sidelines. The coaches were silent, the boys were staring at me as if I had grown two heads; I'd blown it. "I, um. I understand. Thank you for humoring me." I dropped the ball bag and tee and moved to leave before Coach Yoast's voice halted me. "Have you played football before?" He exchanged a glance with Coach Tyrell and Coach Boone. "No sir, never on a team. I played soccer and did ballet. I only played football with my brothers and cousins." I did my best to keep my answers short and my voice level.

"Miss O'Shea, will you be joining us at camp?" I turned my head to Coach Boone. "Yes sir, if you'll have me." I replied with a smile as he nodded his head, a small smile of his own playing at his lips. "We'll see you August 15th." The boys were still aghast with shock but most seemed mildly impressed expect for the stern one.

That night I told my parents the great news over dinner and wrote a letter to Ben as soon as I got home. Dad was proud, he and mom raised me to believe I could do anything a boy could do and better if I pushed myself. Mom was excited for me, if not also a little nervous about me playing such an aggressive sport. The two weeks between now and camp couldn't come fast enough.


End file.
